The Reason Why eBook

It was very enormous and stately, she found when they
reached it, and, she walking with her empress air
and Tristram following her, they at last came to the
picture gallery where the rest of the party, who had
arrived earlier, were all assembled in the center,
by one of the big fireplaces, with their host and
hostess having tea.

The Duke and Lady Ethelrida came forward, down the
very long, narrow room (they had quite sixty feet
to walk before they met them), and then, when they
did, they both kissed Zara—­their beautiful
new relation!—­and Lady Ethelrida taking
her arm drew her towards the party, while she whispered,

“You dear, lovely thing! Ever so many welcomes
to the family and Montfitchet!”

And Zara suddenly felt a lump in her throat.
How she had misjudged them all in her hurt ignorance!
And determining to repair her injustice she advanced
with a smile and was presented to the group.

CHAPTER XXII

There was a good deal of running into each other’s
rooms before dressing for dinner among the ladies
at Montfitchet, that night. They had, they felt,
to exchange views about the new bride! And the
opinions were favorable, on the whole; unanimous,
as to her beauty and magnetic attraction; divided,
as to her character; but fiercely and venomously antagonistic
in one mean, little heart.

Emily and Mary and Lady Betty Burns clustered together
in the latter’s room. “We think she
is perfectly lovely, Betty,” Emily said, “but
we don’t know her as yet. She is rather
stiff, and frightens us just a little. Perhaps
she is shy. What do you think?”

“She looks just like the heroines in some of
the books that Mamma does not let me read and I am
obliged to take up to bed with me. Don’t
you know, Mary—­especially the one I lent
you—­deeply, mysteriously tragic. You
remember the one who killed her husband and then went
off with the Italian Count; and then with some one
else. It was frightfully exciting.”

“I really don’t know,” said Lady
Betty, who was nineteen and wrote lurid melodramas—­to
the waste of much paper and the despair of her mother.
“I don’t know. I made one of my heroines
in my last play have just those passionate eyes—­and
she stabbed the villain in the second act!”

“Yes, but,” said Mary, who felt she must
defend Tristram’s wife, “Zara isn’t
in a play and there is no villain, and—­why,
Betty, no one has tragedies in real life!”

Lady Betty tossed her flaxen head, while she announced
a prophecy, with an air of deep wisdom which positively
frightened the other two girls.

“You mark my words, both of you, Emily and Mary—­they
will have some tragedy before the year is out!
And I shall put it all in my next play.”

And with this fearful threat ringing in their ears
Tristram’s two sisters walked in a scared fashion
to their room.